


Burn It Back

by Jadzibelle



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Antagonistic Alliance, Erinyes Trouble, F/F, References to Previous Character Death, Resurrection, Self-Motivated Morality, Serious POV Bias, making deals with the devil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 05:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4378088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadzibelle/pseuds/Jadzibelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's nothing quite like fury to bring people together.  Jordan and Mara have been burned by the world- together, they just might burn it back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burn It Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sysnix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sysnix/gifts).



Jordan woke up cold, confused, and _very, very pissed_.

She wasn’t entirely sure where she was, only that she wasn’t where she’d been- her hand pressed sharply to her stomach, her heart leaping in her chest at the low, phantom ache there, the echo of _tearing_ , of _dragging_ , the memory of bright silver eyes burned into her mind.

_Crocker_.  That _treacherous son of a_ -

She dragged in a breath, swallowing hard, and her fingers found nothing but a faint, raised line; a scar, too thin, too delicate, for the violence that had been done.  But she was _whole_ , she was _alive_.

She was whole, and _someone_ was going to pay for what had been done to her.

Wade, preferably, though there were a few others she’d accept, if she couldn’t get to him.

She rolled over, pushed herself to her feet, and there was sand beneath her gloved hands, water at her back- she didn’t know why she was at the coast, didn’t know what beach she was on, but there was a parking lot in view, a dock with boats not far away, so she was _somewhere_ accessible.  She could find a way back into town.

And then she could find Wade.

He would regret having betrayed her.

***

“Forget it, she’s not going to help.”  Crocker, leaning back against the wall, gave her a dark look, and Mara smiled sweetly, enjoying the simmering resentment she could see under his disaffected pose.  “How many times do we have to run through this?  She’s _not useful_.”

“We had to try,” Wuornos said, shrugging.  “It’s getting bad out there.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t know,” Crocker bit out, and Mara didn’t bother to hold back her amused snort.  Crocker glared, and Mara blinked wide eyes at him.

“Hey, I’m not the one who has you on house arrest, sweetheart, you wanna be mad, be mad at your cops,” she said, before she smiled, wide and amused.  “They’re the ones who don’t think you can be trusted.”

“Shut up,” Crocker gritted out, and Wuornos leaned in, loomed over her in a way that he clearly _meant_ to be intimidating- it wasn’t, but she supposed he got a C, C minus for effort.

“You’re not going to be useful, you don’t get to talk,” he said, and she played her tongue over her teeth and shrugged, leaning back in her chair, letting him win.  He pulled back and stalked away, drawing Crocker along with him with a tilt of his head, and _God_ , Crocker was such a fucking _dog_ , following along in his wake- she could _use_ that loyalty, if she could just figure out how to get the leash in _her_ hands.

She could hear them talking, out in the hall, low and intense, and she tuned them out; it was more of their petty emotional drama, and she wasn’t interested.  She _was_ interested in what Wuornos had come to ask her about, though- a Trouble had gone active, and it wasn’t one of the ones Crocker was boiling over with.  She was fairly sure, by the description, she knew exactly what Trouble it was- she’d been playing with old stories, had woven together something out of the Erinyes.

And in a town like Haven, well.  There were _bound_ to be more than a few furies waiting to rise.

And at least a few of them had to be gunning for her captors.  She could use this, she didn’t even _need_ aether for something so minor.  Not for one of _her_ projects.  William’s work, that she couldn’t modify without tools, but her own...  Well.  Small adjustments, all she needed for those was her own will.  All she had to do was _find_ one of the newly-risen, and from there...

From there, she could craft herself an ally.

As long as she could get herself out of her chains.

***

It was surprising, honestly, how _trusting_ people were.  It hadn’t taken more than a coy smile and a please to hitch a ride into town, and really, Jordan thought, people in Haven should _know better_ by now.  Willfull ignorance, perhaps, or sheer country stubbornness.  Whatever; it was working in her favor, at the moment, she’d take it.  Her ride let her out at the Gull, but a few careful inquiries let her know that neither Wade nor Duke was there- that none of the girls had seen Wade in more than two months, and that Duke had been unusually scarce over the last few weeks, as well.

_Annoying_.  Jordan didn’t want to have to scour the town to find him, wanted-

-Dwight’s truck pulled into the lot outside, and Jordan smiled, sharp and dangerous.  Dwight talked to Nathan, talked to Duke, he’d know where Wade was.  And he’d always been someone she could trust.  She drifted toward the door, and caught Dwight’s arm, _carefully_ , when he stepped inside, gloved hands digging in hard.

“Hey, Dwight,” she purred.  “Miss me?”

“ _Jordan_?”  Dwight went pale, eyes round, and he didn’t pull away- looked too surprised to try, even though he could- letting her push him toward a booth in the corner.  He sat down heavily, still staring, and Jordan flashed him a bitter smile as she slid into the booth across from him.

“You look surprised to see me,” she said, voice full of malice.

“Little bit, yeah,” Dwight said, eyes still round, posture wary.  “Given that you’re dead, and all.  This conversation isn’t going to end with you trying to cut my heart out, is it, because I’ve got kind of a full day today- you aren’t the only one we weren’t expecting to see.”

“I’m not here for you,” Jordan replied, pushing her hair over her shoulder and leaning forward over the table.  “I do need your help, though.”

“Look, whatever... this is?  I can’t help you, you have to know that.  You’re here for _someone_ , everyone else has been, and I can’t help you kill someone, Jordan,” he said, leaning forward in a mirror of her posture.  “I can’t let you do that.”

“He _gutted me_ , Dwight,” she snarled, the words low and vicious and _furious_.  “You can let me do this.”

“...You’re here for Wade,” he said, understanding dawning.

“Yes.  And you’re going to tell me where to find him.  I’m _owed_ that.”

“Jordan, Wade Crocker is _dead_ ,” Dwight said, reaching out, catching one of her hands, squeezing hard over the leather of her glove.  “It’s done.”

“...What?” she asked, some of the anger shifting into confusion, the swirling mass of fire that had been burning under her skin since she’d woken up on the beach flickering, dimming.  She felt _weary_ , immeasurably so, at the news.  “How?”

“Duke killed him,” Dwight replied, a look of... not amusement, precisely, but _satisfaction_ , perhaps, curving his lips.  “Found out what Wade was doing, what he’d _done_ , and stopped him.  Permanently.  It’s _done_ , he’s dead.  You don’t have to hurt anyone.”

And he was wrong, _someone_ still needed to pay.  Someone needed to be _punished_.  And maybe she couldn’t reach Wade, but there were others, people who had _hurt_ her.  The people who’d pushed her far enough to turn to _Wade_ , of all people.  People she would need to _find_.

The fire picked back up, and the weariness retreated.

“Guess I owe him a thank you.  Where is he, anyway?  Girls at the bar said he hasn’t been around here much lately,” she asked, trying to make it sound casual.

“Busy,” Dwight replied, his expression going dark and dour.  “Working on... This.”

“With Audrey and Nathan?” she asked, and Dwight hesitated, looked _unsure_.

“Jordan...”

“Just wondering.  That is your usual anti-Trouble lineup,” she said, smiling, and she wasn’t entirely sure she’d kept the venom out of her expression.

“Not lately,” Dwight replied.  “Things are different than you remember, Jordan.  Don’t- don’t get involved in this.  Please.  It’s- it’s good, seeing you.  Just- take the second chance.  Let’s just _talk_.  For however long this... lasts.”

...And she hadn’t thought of that, hadn’t considered that at all, but this, this was a _Trouble_.  She was only _here_ because of a Trouble, and when it wore off- or when _Audrey_ put an end to it- what would happen to her?  Would she vanish, crumble into dust, drop where she stood?  She could _feel_ the need, still, the drive to _punish_ , thought that maybe, if she _did_ , if she could balance the scales, maybe she’d be able to _last_.

Jordan didn’t want to die.  Not again.

“Tell me how it’s different,” she asked, shifting slightly, as though she were settling in for a long talk.  She wasn’t, she _couldn’t_ , she didn’t have time, but if Dwight wanted to talk...  Well.  Better armed with whatever knowledge she could glean.

Dwight relaxed, and she thought she should feel guilty for misleading him, but she didn’t.  She couldn’t afford the luxury of guilt; she had something she needed to do.

***

“You’re leaving?” Mara asked, pouting, the expression deliberately overdone, sarcastic and snide.  “What _will_ I do with myself?”

“I could give you some suggestions,” Crocker said, but it lacked emphasis, lacked force.  He was distracted, his thoughts clearly still out in the hallway rather than on her.  She’d be offended by that, if it weren’t useful.  His distraction meant he’d gotten just a _little_ closer than he usually would, checking to make sure all her chains were still properly secure.

He _really_ shouldn’t have bragged to Audrey about how many picks he kept on his person.  It wasn’t that difficult to lift one- he’d _taught_ her to, after all.  Mara doubted Audrey appreciated that lesson half as much as she should.  Audrey had found it clumsily endearing- the well-intentioned crook trying to impress her with what amounted to little more than sleight of hand- but really, it was such a... _practical_ lesson.

She did hope that he figured it out, after.  That he realized how she’d made her escape.  The more emotional turbulence he was carrying, the sooner the fireworks went off.

She was looking forward to the show.  It was gonna be a _hell_ of a mess.

***

Jordan could barely believe what she was hearing.

But Dwight had no reason to lie to her, and honestly, it seemed like he couldn’t help but talk, like the words were just boiling up.  He’d clearly needed to unburden himself to _someone_ , and they’d been friends, once.  From what he was saying, from the _frustration_ laced through every word, he didn’t have anyone else he could talk to.  Didn’t have anyone else left he could trust.

And why shouldn’t he tell her things?  She was going to die again, anyway, as soon as this Trouble ended.  He could confess his fears and his anger, he could rest some of his burden on her shoulders for a few minutes, and know that in the end?  She’d take his words right back to the grave.  The people he was fuming about- Nathan, Vince, Duke, Audrey- they never needed to know.

She would’ve been all the more determined, after hearing him talk, to seek them _all_ out, to punish each of them- she did care about Dwight, after all- if he hadn’t given her a much, much better target.

_Mara_.

The woman who’d created the Troubles.  The woman who’d brought _all of this_ down on them.  Who was responsible for every hurt, every wound, every forced hand.  Audrey’s original self, separated out, flesh and blood and _vulnerable_.

Held, _hidden_ , on Duke’s boat.  Alive because- _because_ , apparently, because of stubbornness, because Nathan still wouldn’t do what was necessary for the town if it might risk Audrey, because Duke would still back him up even when it made no sense, because Dwight wasn’t willing to accept that the three of them were more hindrance than help, more threat than benefit, even now.

Jordan felt only a little guilty, slipping one glove off and catching Dwight’s wrist, squeezing until he slumped into the corner of the booth, but she knew he wouldn’t have allowed her to leave.  Wouldn’t have let her wander off unattended, when she had been made manifest for the purpose of killing.  Wouldn’t have believed her, if she’d tried to lie and assure him she was beyond such a thing.

She felt even less guilt doing the same thing out in the parking lot, dropping some random customer where he stood and taking his keys and his car.  Haven wasn’t that big, it’d be recovered soon enough, she only needed to borrow it for a little while.

The marina was no quieter than usual- and even now, no one ever learned, no one _left_ , even when they should- and the Cape Rouge was in the same slip she’d been in when Wade had brought her there.  The memory stirred a simmering, roiling resentment, and she paused to poke around, remembering an off-hand comment he’d made about his brother; it was the work of only a minute to come up with a loaded handgun, and that would certainly do the trick.

Now all she had to do was _find_ Mara, and she could do what no one else was, apparently, willing to do.

It wouldn’t put everything right, but destroying the woman who’d doomed them all to _this_...  It would certainly be a step in the direction of balancing the scales.

***

The last of the chains slithered to the deck in a hissing clatter, and Mara stepped delicately out of the tangle, sliding her little bit of bent wire into the band of her bra and stretching cautiously.  Spending several days stuck in one position did tend to be hard on the joints, and her keeper had been stingy with breaks.

Not that his paranoia wasn’t justified, but that was so beside the point.

She was still working a kink out of her shoulder when the door to the hold swung open, and she was honestly startled; she hadn’t heard the usual heavy clomping from the other side that would’ve announced the shell and her guard dogs.  The intruder entered, gun first, and Mara only barely kept back a snarl of frustration- the urge faded when she realized just who she was looking at.

A fury.

Just what she’d wanted to find.

And she _knew_ this one- rather, _Audrey_ had known this one, and Mara knew what Audrey knew.  Jordan McKee; unstable, temperamental, ruthless, _proud_.  Audrey didn’t like her one bit, hadn’t from the moment they’d met.

Mara, though, Mara thought Jordan might be _exactly_ what she needed.  What was it Claire had said, she’d tortured a man for _three days_?

Yes, Mara thought Jordan might just be _perfect_.

“So you’re her,” Jordan said, lip curled.  “You’re the one who started... all of this.  You really do look like Audrey.”

“That’s a... dramatic simplification, but sure, yeah, we can go with that,” Mara agreed, shrugging, going back to stretching, working her shoulder until the tightness there finally released.  Jordan looked _miffed_ , looked decidedly insulted that Mara wasn’t even slightly alarmed by the gun pointing in her direction.  “And _she_ looks like _me_.”

“You created the Troubles?” she demanded, taking a step closer, and, seriously, people in this town needed to learn how to do menacing properly.  It was all about intent, really- for example.  Mara tilted her head, let her eyes sweep over Jordan, taking her measure, _assessing_ , slow and calm, and locked eyes with her, matched Jordan’s forward step with one of her own.  Jordan didn’t back up, but she did swallow heavily, some of her confidence fading.  Not _much_ , granted, but she looked just a bit warier than she had.

“Some of them,” Mara agreed, blinking slowly.  “Like yours.  So?”

“ _So_?” Jordan snarled, stalking closer.  “ _So_ , you’ve ruined lives, you’ve ruined _people_ , you-” Jordan stopped, lifted her chin, and steadied her aim.  “So I’m going to kill you, I’m going to do what _someone_ should’ve done as soon as they found out what you are.”

“You don’t actually want to do that,” Mara said, unconcerned.

“I _really_ do,” Jordan replied, teeth bared.

Mara smiled, sly and sharp, and took another step forward, until the gun in Jordan’s hand was pressed against her chest.  Jordan’s hand shook, but it wasn’t fear; the pale, slender woman was _vibrating_ with fury, eyes bright with unshed tears.

_Wrath_.  She could feel it, echoing, _burning_ beneath Jordan’s skin.  There were _fires_ in her, hot enough to scorch stone.  Mara knew the taste of those flames, knew the wild heights they could reach.

She did so _enjoy_ wrath.

“I’m not the one who hurt you,” Mara said, head tilted.  She reached up, and wrapped her fingers around Jordan’s wrist above the cuff of her glove; her skin was cool to the touch, and gooseflesh raised beneath the smooth stroke of Mara’s fingertips.  Jordan inhaled sharply, not quite a gasp, and Mara brushed her thumb down the inside of Jordan’s wrist, tracing the line of the pale blue vein there.  “You’re smart enough to know that.”

“You did this to me, you- you-”

“I didn’t.  I crafted the Trouble, but someone else woke it up.  Someone else hurt you.  I let you hurt them _back_.  I gave you protection against the world,” Mara said, voice low and coaxing.  Jordan’s breathing was faster, sharper, and Mara could feel the beat of her pulse, double-quick under her thumb.  Touch was such a simple thing, so trivial, until it was denied- then, suddenly, it was _everything_.  Mara took another step, and Jordan yielded the ground, arm folding between them, still caught in Mara’s hold, the gun shifting to sit flat between them.  “You can’t tell me it wasn’t _exactly_ what you wanted- the power to _punish_ him, to hurt him the way he’d hurt you.  I gave you a sword and a shield, wove them into your skin so that _no one_ could take them away from you.”

“You made me a _monster_ ,” Jordan snapped, trying to pull her arm back, and Mara tightened her grip, laughing.

“Who says that has to be a bad thing?” she asked, baring her teeth in a dangerous grin.  “This world is full of monsters.  I put you on equal footing.”  She pushed forward again, her grip never faltering, keeping Jordan in place until they were pressed chest to chest.  “So you can shoot me, or you can thank me, but either way, you’re still what you are.  You think that anger came from nowhere?  You think all that hate you carry, it’ll just _disappear_ if you put a bullet in me?”

“It might,” Jordan said, glaring down at her, and Mara laughed again.

“That _anger_ is why you’re alive,” she said.  “You think the Trouble that brought you back can raise just _anyone_?  No, no no no.  That hate you’re carrying, it’s the blood in your veins and the breath in your lungs.  And right now, as we speak, my sad little shadow is looking for a way to put you and all the rest right back in the ground.”  Mara flashed her teeth in a grin that carried more threat than amusement.  “She’s got Deputy Do-Right and the... ‘good’ Crocker helping her, too, so it probably won’t take her long to figure it out, and then...”  She shrugged, gestured dismissively with her free hand.  “Unless.”

“...Unless what?” Jordan asked, eyes narrowing, lip curling into a sneer, but it wasn’t quite enough to hide the surge of _desperation_ , the fear and the fury.  Mara knew that feeling, the drive to _survive_ at any cost- it burned at her core just as much as it burned at Jordan’s.

“I can protect you.  I can keep you alive, even after they’ve solved it,” Mara said.  “You’re one of _mine_ , after all.”

“And what do I have to do?” Jordan demanded, the words dripping with cynicism.

“Oh, I can think of a few things,” Mara said, with another dangerous flash of teeth, and she trailed her fingers up Jordan’s arm, light and teasing.  “You have no idea how magnificent you could be, with a little bit of practice.  Let me show you.  You help me, and I promise you, I’ll make it worth your while- you’ll get a second chance, you’ll get a chance to collect some of what you’re owed.  And...”  Mara moved, resting her free hand on Jordan’s hip, fingertips slipping neatly beneath the hem of her shirt, winning a real gasp, this time.  Jordan’s eyes fell half-closed, a tremor running through her.  “How long has it been, really?  And I don’t mean that sad sack of shit that put you in the ground, or the charmless Detective Wuornos- how long has it been since someone touched you, and _meant_ it?”

“...How...” Jordan started, looking uncertain, before she tried to pull back, expression twisting, the temporary softness disappearing behind hard anger.  “And I’m supposed to believe you _mean_ it?”

“Of course not,” Mara scoffed.  “But isn’t it nicer, knowing that right up front?”  She paused, watching the _surprise_ flicker over Jordan’s face, the disbelief.  She hadn’t been prepared for honesty.  They never were.  “...Besides,” she added, amused, “I’ve been around a lot longer than they have.  I guarantee you, I know things about touch you’ve never _dreamed_ of.”

“And I should just... _trust_ you?  Let you _use_ me, let you-”

“You don’t really have much of a choice,” Mara pointed out, shrugging.  “You can trust me, or you can end with this Trouble.  I’d rather you trusted me- you’re worth more to me alive than dead, and I think I’m the only one who can say that, right now.  What’s the worst that happens?  I’m lying, and you die anyway?  At least I’m offering you a _chance_.  This world _burned_ you, Jordan- don’t you think you deserve to burn it _back_?”

“...”  Mara could see Jordan hesitate, could see her fighting herself; she waited, tracing her fingertips up and down, up and down, over Jordan’s wrist.  Jordan shivered, looked for a moment like she was going to pull away- and _snarled_ , the sound full of fury and frustration and _need_.  “What do I have to do?” she asked again, a bitter note of defeat in her voice, and Mara smiled, bright and wicked.

“Right now?  Get me off this rusty hunk of scrap metal, and out of sight.”

***

It didn’t look like anyone had used the safehouse, since the last time Jordan had checked it over; all the supplies she’d last brought in were intact, the doors were properly locked, and there was a layer of dust on all the surfaces.  She guided Mara inside, and scowled when Mara trailed her fingers over the windowsill next to the kitchen door, examining the dust with disdain.

“It’s a good sign, it means the Guard isn’t using this place anymore,” Jordan said, the words sharp.  “You’re out of sight.  What do we do next?”

And she thought she should feel guilty, she thought she should feel... conflicted, about all of this- Mara had _created_ the Troubles, Mara was responsible for all of Haven’s problems- but she didn’t.

It was a Trouble, after all, that had brought her back.  It was a Trouble that had given her a second chance.

And Jordan deserved to fight for her own survival, as much as anyone.

The world _had_ burned her.  She deserved to burn it back.

“It will have to do, for now,” Mara said, still sneering at the dust.  “Now...  I told you I’d keep you alive.  You’ll want to be lying down for this, you might feel a _little_ woozy.”

...Jordan didn’t like the sound of that, didn’t like the coy edge to Mara’s bright, wicked smile, the narrowness of her storm-blue eyes, but what choice did she have?  What other choice could she _possibly_ make?  She could give herself over to Mara, to her dangerous honesty and unapologetic wickedness.

Or.

She could, what, go to Audrey?  Beg mercy from the woman who’d taken _everything_ from her?  From _Nathan_ , who’d used her, lied to her, from _Duke_ , who’d tried to kill her once himself, whose own flesh and blood had _succeeded_?  No.  No, she knew what would happen if she went to them.  Duke would see her as a threat, Nathan would look at her with pity, and Audrey...  Audrey would _talk_ , would try to offer _solace_ , as if there was any such thing to be found.  Would try to convince her to just- let go of the anger, to go quietly back into death.

Jordan would not go quietly.  Not this time.  Not ever.

“Fine.  Bedroom’s this way,” Jordan said, avoiding Mara’s eyes.  She started down the narrow hall, only to nearly stumble at the brush of fingertips over the back of her arm, hot skin and soft flesh and _temptation_.

A flicker of resentment sparked, simmering low in her stomach; it was _better_ , knowing in advance that it didn’t mean anything, that it was as much a bribe and a ploy as it was anything else, that it was _only_ a bribe and a ploy, but that didn’t actually change how she felt about it.  She didn’t like that it was a _weakness_ for someone else to _exploit_.

But God, did she miss being touched.  Particularly simple, casual things, _incidental_ things- the brush of skin against skin in a narrow hallway, for example, thoughtless, meaningless _contact_.  Absent, _accidental_ , and it set Jordan’s pulse to pounding, the fact that Mara didn’t pull away.  Didn’t jerk back, cry out, _crumple_.

Nothing about Mara was safe, but she could stand inside Jordan’s personal space without _cringing_ , and maybe that wasn’t much, but it was more than Jordan was used to.

Mara didn’t even seem to notice.  Just strutted along in Jordan’s wake, confident and sure.

It should have been easy to hate her.  Jordan wasn’t sure she liked what it said about her that she _didn’t_.  That she could so easily hate the _idea_ of her, but when faced with the _person_ \- abrasive, remorseless, _shameless_ \- she couldn’t muster more than distrust and confusion.

“In here,” Jordan said, pushing open the door and moving to take the dust-cover off of the bed, because if she _did_ need to lie down, she didn’t want it to be on months worth of dust.  Mara watched, making no offer of assistance, and Jordan folded it up and set it aside before sitting down, tentatively, on the edge of the bed.  “Now what?”

“Now, you just relax and let me make you better,” Mara said, smirking.  “It’ll only hurt a little.”

Jordan glared, but said nothing, _waiting_ , and Mara stepped forward, moved until she was standing decidedly inside Jordan’s personal space, her legs bracketing Jordan’s knees.

“Close your eyes,” Mara instructed, and Jordan did, tension rolling through her; it might be her best chance, but it wasn’t _easy_.  Trusting monsters hadn’t exactly paid off for her in the past.

But the world was full of monsters, was full of people who made monstrous decisions, and as far as she could tell, there was no ‘right side’ any longer.  There were no heroes, only people fighting to survive.

And if all the sides were wrong, why the hell shouldn’t she pick one that had a chance of _winning_?

Hands bracketed her cheeks, strong, slightly callused, but oddly gentle, and _heat_ gathered there, far more than should be accounted for by Mara’s touch or the blush creeping over Jordan’s skin.  It began to spread, filling her head, and she could feel the pounding of her heart in the pressure building behind her eyes, a headache made of fire, and she gritted her teeth, choked back a sound- it built, and built, until Jordan was struggling to keep still, dragging in ragged breaths, feeling like at any moment her skull might just explode from the effort of containing it.

Lips brushed her forehead, and the pressure _vanished_ , the heat rolled over her in a wave, crown to toes, and Jordan gasped, shuddered at the feeling, at the sunburn-bright prickle of sensation sliding through her skin.  The room spun, and Jordan wasn’t quite sure she could feel the floor under her feet, wasn’t quite sure what was _up_ and what was _down_ , but there was a strong grip at her shoulders, guiding her, and Jordan went where she was put without resistance.

She could feel her heartbeat in every inch of her skin, a steady flick, flick, flick of _heat_ , rushing through her.  She could feel, also, a bright burning force at her core, something that- that _moved_ , as she shifted.

“What did you _do_?” she demanded, eyes still shut tight, and even with her eyes closed, she could see Mara, a cold white pillar of fire looming over her.

“I made you better,” Mara replied, laughter in her voice.  “Your life isn’t tied to the Trouble that brought you back, not any longer.  As promised.”

“What _is_ it tied to?” Jordan asked, because she could feel it, could feel the pull, still.

“ _My_ power,” Mara said.  “So long as I’m breathing, you’ll be just fine.”

“You-” Jordan started, furious, surging up and opening her eyes, and the room _blazed_ , too bright, too much.  Mara reached out, covered her eyes with her hand and shoved her back down.

“Oh, _stop_ that.  Lie still, your body needs time to adjust.  You didn’t _really_ think there wasn’t going to be a catch, did you?  Deals with the devil always have a catch, and it could’ve been _much_ worse.”  Mara sounded more amused than anything, and the fire in Jordan’s blood _billowed_ , blazed-  “Fuck, you’re going to be so much more fun than the others,” Mara said, voice low and full of the same roiling heat Jordan could feel coiling under her skin.

“ _Fun_?” Jordan snarled, caught up in the fire.  “You smug-”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Mara demanded, affronted.  “Why shouldn’t I be smug?  You have no _idea_ what I just did, the control, the precision, the _power_.  You have no idea what it takes, to do what I do.”  

“And that makes you _special_?” Jordan hissed, trying to sit up again, and Mara held her down, one hand on her chest, the heel of it digging hard into her collarbone.

“You have no idea,” Mara replied, tone curling like smoke.  “You have _no idea_.  People look at statues, at paintings, and think they know what art is, but any idiot with a chisel can work in stone, any savage with mud on their hands can paint.  My work, my _art_ , you people don’t even have _words_ for the things I can do.  And _you_...  You’re going to be something _special_ , when I’m done with you.  You’re going to be one of a kind.”

“How do you live with yourself?” Jordan demanded, not sure if she was more angry at Mara or at _herself_ , for not having seen the hook in the bait.  For _seeing_ the hook in the bait, and taking it anyway.  “How can you do the things that you do?”

“The same way you do.  You’re not all sweetness and light, yourself, little Fury.  You _exist_ because of your darkness.  Because you _deserved better_ , and you _knew it_.  Because you were willing to _take_ what you deserved, when the opportunity presented itself.  The Erinyes Trouble couldn’t have raised you if you weren’t fully prepared to _kill_ for it.  And let’s not pretend you were squeaky clean _before_ you died.”  Mara laughed, and her tone went honey-rich and poison-sweet.

“You want to talk about the things I do, how about waking a Crocker and setting him loose on your own kind?  How about your plan to kidnap and use a traumatized child to _compel_ your boyfriend for you, so that you could send the competition packing for twenty seven years?  How about working for people whose entire philosophy is ‘the ends justify the means’, who were willing to use a living being as a shield over and over and _over again_?  Shooting a man in the back?  Supporting the idea of human sacrifice?   _Torture_?  I mean, come _on_.”

Mara pressed close, white fire and body heat and malice, and her lips brushed Jordan’s cheek just beside her ear when she spoke again, tickled against her skin.

“Your _Trouble_ didn’t make you a monster, Jordan, your _choices_ did.  And you can’t blame me for those.  So you can sit here and stew in your own guilt and regret, or you can _accept that_ , recognize that this is how the world is, that _everyone_ is a monster under the surface, and _take what you deserve_.”  Mara pressed in, pressed a kiss to her cheek, and it _burned_ , felt branded into her skin.  “Personally?  I’d go with option two.”

The words rattled in her skull, dug deep into all the places she hadn’t wanted to examine too closely, all the decisions she’d made because she’d felt trapped, felt forced, felt _wronged_.

Why she’d made them, in the end, didn’t change that she’d _made them_.  They were _her_ choices.

She’d tried to run from that, when she’d decided to leave Haven.  When she’d realized how far over the line she was, bringing Wade into things, when she’d realized how much her own internal justifications conflicted.  She’d tried to leave it all behind, tried to leave _herself_ behind, and she’d ended up dead.  There was probably some sort of irony in that, some cosmic lesson on consequence and self.

Wherever you go, there you are, after all.

And she’d already run down her options, already committed to this course.  There wasn’t much point in wasting energy on regret.

It wasn’t like anyone else was any better, under the surface.  She didn’t owe any of them _anything_.  She didn’t owe them her guilt or remorse- she doubted they’d spared any on her.

So fine.  She was a monster.

She could live with that, if it let her _live_.

“Okay, then.”  She reached out, caught Mara by the back of the neck, heard her _laugh_ , low and wicked as she dragged her in, because she _could_ , because she was _entitled_ \- Mara had certainly implied it was part of the deal, after all- and claimed a kiss.  “Option two.”

***

It was always a special kind of delight when a plan came together.  Particularly one as... off the cuff as this one.  Mara could not have _hoped_ for a more perfect opportunity, could not have hoped for a better option- someone whose weak points she knew, someone she could _understand_ and therefore manipulate, someone with exactly the right kind of drive and a need Mara alone could fulfil, someone who was already primed to fight Mara’s enemies...  Add in the fact that Jordan was amusing, and appealing, was someone Mara might actually _enjoy_ keeping for a while, instead of merely tolerating, and clearly, the six-hundred-year run of _bad luck_ was finally reversing.

And now, Jordan had a very compelling reason to keep Mara alive, and Mara had time to _plan_.

...Later.  She’d been cooped up on that boat for _days_ , had been otherwise trapped for _weeks_ in the company of Tweedles Dee and Dum, had been _smothered_ for centuries under a parade of selfless, well-intentioned, _boring_ identities- she _craved_ , needed to _stretch_ , needed... to reclaim herself, as she had not yet been able to do.

To reassert her ownership of her own body, to _prove_ it was _hers_ , that she alone dictated what was done to it, and by whom.

She was going to wash away six hundred years of unwanted touches, of unearned intimacies, of the echoes of strangers, she was going to drown them out in sweat and sex.

She was going to make sure, by the time she was satisfied, that Jordan had _two_ very compelling reasons to keep Mara alive.

***

It was dark out.

Jordan had lost track of time, had lost track of _everything_ , had lost _herself_ , and her thoughts were hazy, satisfaction hanging thick as smoke over her mind.  She was _buzzing_ , skin flushed and marked, bruises bitten bright and dug deep.

Mara lay beside her, eyes bright in the darkness, and Jordan could still see the fire in her, the white-hot core of flame that burned under her skin.  Absently, Mara traced her hand over Jordan’s throat, the touch soft and careful, now, a feather-light caress.  Different, so different, than the handful of other touches she’d gotten, since her Trouble had activated- Mara’s touch was nothing like Nathan’s, had a... deftness, a softness, he’d lacked.

Of course, Mara could feel what she was doing.  And she may have had a point about _experience_.  She’d certainly been _confident_ , had been... commanding.  Had known what she wanted, and _taken_ it, without hesitation or doubt.

Jordan hadn’t known some of those things had been physically possible.  She’d enjoyed learning that they were.

“Tomorrow, you’re going to help me with something very important,” Mara said, with that same confidence.

“What are we doing?” Jordan asked, only able to muster a moderate amount of curiosity.  It didn’t really _matter_ , after all- Jordan would do what she was asked to do, whatever it was.

“I need aether.  I can’t get the door open again without it.”

“What door?”

“The way home.  I’ve been _delayed_ a very long time, but I still have work to do.  You’re going to help me get my aether, so that I can get back to it.”

“How are we going to get it?” Jordan asked, shifting just enough to arch into Mara’s absent, easy touch.

“...You’ll like that part, I promise,” Mara said, a cruel glint in her eyes, amusement curving her lips.  “I told you you’d have a chance to get back some of what was owed to you- you’re going to have _fun_.”

“Okay,” Jordan agreed, the flick, flick, flick of fire in her veins speeding up just a trace at the prospect.

Somehow, it wasn’t difficult to believe.

Mara grinned, bright and dangerous, and dragged Jordan in for another kiss, hands roaming over bare skin.  Jordan went, willing and eager, into her hold, and they started all over again.

***

“This is risky,” Jordan said, not for the first time, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel.

“Just do your part, and it will be fine,” Mara said dismissively.  She wasn’t entirely sure if she approved of the fretting, or not; wasn’t sure yet if it fell into ‘endearing’ or ‘irritating’.  Mara didn’t like whining, but she _did_ like knowing that Jordan would speak up if she had a concern- just on the off-chance Mara _missed_ something, as unlikely as that was.

“I could-”

“No.”  The refusal slipped out before Mara could stop it, harsher than she’d meant it- she gave a tight-lipped smile, and reached out, patting Jordan’s wrist.  “You’re not going into the station.  You can’t crack a safe, there’s no point sending you in there.”  Where, no doubt, _someone_ would wise up to the fact that Jordan _should not_ be there, and Mara had made a number of small adjustments, yesterday, but she still wasn’t _bulletproof_.

...Which would be a worthwhile upgrade to consider, assuming Mara could figure out how to stabilize for an additional weight of aether.  Jordan was, in the most technical sense, a _construct_ , now, a soul set in a _created_ body, and it was the human _body_ that couldn’t support more than one Trouble, not the soul animating it.  Mara might be able to do something with that, might be able to adjust the harmonics of her form to allow for a second vibrational impact without cancelling out the first-

-but that was a project for later, when she had the tools she would need and a little time to work out the physics of it.  For now, she’d simply avoid putting Jordan in a position to get _shot_.  At least, as much as was feasible.

“If you’re wrong-”

“I’m _not wrong_ ,” Mara said, fixing Jordan with a glare.  “I know them as well as Audrey Parker does, they won’t take the risk.  Just do your part, and it will be fine.”

“...Fine.”  Jordan handed Mara one of the burner phones that had been stocked at the safehouse, and got out of the car.  “Be careful.”

“Be ready,” Mara replied, already focused on the message she was typing.  Jordan huffed a sigh, and stalked off, headed for her place, and Mara took a single moment to check out her ass as she went, just because she _could_.  Because she wanted to, and she was free to do what she wanted.

Mara hit send, and headed to her own place to wait.

Thirty five minutes later, the shell and her cop headed through the front door of the abandoned restaurant, guns drawn, moving cautiously.  Mara could see their approach in the cracked, dirty mirror that had hung above the bar, and smiled- her gamble had paid off, Wuornos was sticking with Audrey instead of having one of them cover the side door.

Which meant Crocker would be coming in through the back, and making his way through the kitchen behind her; they’d be bold, seeing her alone, knowing they’d cut off her avenue of retreat.  Mara had the odds at seventy thirty that it would be Audrey who swung wide to cover the side door; that would be ideal, of course, but either way, this would work.  The only risk had been that they’d do this _properly_ , split up to come in through all three doors, and that _Crocker_ would’ve gotten the side door; Wuornos would’ve been a problem, then.

Wuornos and Audrey moved into view, and guns drawn immediately became guns fixed.  Mara turned to face them, hands raised, smirking; Audrey swept wide, moving to cover the side door, and the faintest scuffing sound told her that Crocker had moved into place behind the kitchen door while Wuornos covered the main entrance.

“Oh, did I forget to turn the GPS tracker in my phone off?” Mara asked, flashing a bright, toothy smile at Wuornos.  “Oops.  How careless.”

“Dunno what you thought-” Wuornos started, but he was cut off by a sharp, startled, _pained_ cry from Audrey, his expression twisting to one of _panic_ as he turned, gun dipping- there was a clatter as Audrey’s gun hit the floor, and Mara laughed.

They _really_ should’ve followed procedure, and covered all the doors from the _outside_.  That alcove in front of the side door was an awful blind spot, coming at it from the _inside_.

Jordan was holding Audrey up, the arm around her middle the only thing keeping Audrey on her feet; her other hand was tangled in Audrey’s hair, keeping her head back, and her gloveless hands were very, very close to vulnerable skin.

“Hello, Nathan,” Jordan offered, baring her teeth in a sharp smile.  “You want to go ahead and drop that gun?”

“ _Jordan_?”  Wuornos looked _shocked_ , jaw dropping, brows furrowed, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.  “What- _how_?”

Mara heard another faint scuff, and moved, drifted a foot to the left, so that she was standing between Nathan and the sightline from the kitchen door; she turned, keeping herself in profile, a narrow target against Nathan’s wider, taller frame, her second layer of insurance.  Really, the odds of Crocker risking a shot while Audrey was being held were negligible, but if he couldn’t tell _exactly_ what was happening, he might risk it- but he wouldn’t dare gamble on an uncertainty if a missed shot would take Wuornos down, instead.

“ _How_ , really?  You were the one who showed up yesterday to ask questions,” Mara said, tsking.  “Really, though, drop the gun.”

Nathan looked back at her, visibly seething, but he let his gun fall to the ground, and kicked it away at the pointed arch of her brow.  He understood the threat, of course- Audrey wasn’t immune any longer, and Jordan wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her again.  Mara sauntered closer, scooping the gun up and casually adjusting so that Nathan was now between her and the kitchen doors, ignoring his baleful glare.

“We handled that Trouble.  Let the dead go back to rest, put an end to the killing,” he said, the words an accusation all their own.

“I didn’t want to go back to _rest_ ,” Jordan snapped, the words harsh, and Nathan turned that hard look back on her, despite the gun Mara was now holding on him.

“So you went to _her_?  She caused all this, Jordan, she made the Troubles, she’s responsible for _everything_ ,” he said, and Mara laughed brightly.

“Oh, she knows,” Mara said, grinning.

“I didn’t go to her for _help_ , I went to _kill her_.  Because none of _you_ would,” Jordan snarled.  “And she offered me a chance to _live_.”

“So that’s it, you just- switch sides, abandon everything you believed in?” Nathan asked, and Jordan stared at him, disbelieving.

“As if _you_ have any right to judge _me_?  With what _you_ did to this town, with what you _keep_ doing?  I should lie down and die out of duty, while you put everyone else at risk to save your precious Audrey?   _Fuck_ you, Nathan.  I wouldn’t _be_ in this position if not for you.  So yeah, I’m going to take my chances with her.  At least she’s _honest_ about her intentions.”

“And this is- is fascinating, really,” Mara said, “except that it isn’t, at all, and we have better things to be doing with our time, so let’s get to the point.  Call your dog, Wuornos.”  She said it loudly enough that she knew Crocker would hear it, and added, just as loudly, “Or I start shooting people, and, honestly, I’d _really_ enjoy that.”

Crocker didn’t wait for Wuornos to fold, stepped out of the kitchen on his own, hands empty and raised.  His glare was just as bleak as Wuornos’s, held just a bit more _real_ threat- he met her eyes for just a moment before his lips twitched up with just a trace of _knowing_ , and he turned his focus to Jordan.

Mara didn’t like that at _all_.  Who the hell did he think he was, to presume _anything_ about her?

“You know I’m going to kill you,” he said, the words calm and certain, his eyes still locked on Jordan.

“You tried that once before,” Jordan replied, edging her hand just a little bit closer to Audrey’s skin, and Audrey was _awake_ , now, _aware_ , was still half-hanging in Jordan’s hold, but knew what was going on, and she flinched at that movement.  “It didn’t take.  Don’t think you’ll have much luck this time, either.  Though I suppose you’re not entirely incapable- I hear you were the one who killed Wade.”

Mara could hear him grinding his teeth, even from halfway across the room, and she giggled, enjoying how tense it made both men.

“The hell do you _want_ ,” Wuornos growled out, clearly trying to draw attention away from Crocker- whether in an effort to protect him, or in an effort to give him space to calm down so that he didn’t do anything that would put Audrey at risk, it wasn’t clear which- and Mara fluttered her lashes at him.

“Good, to business.  Crocker, you’re going to go to the police station and _get me my damn aether_.  You have one hour to bring it to me.”

“Duke, _no_ ,” Audrey said, and Jordan tightened her grip on Audrey’s hair, jerked her head back sharply.

“Shut up,” she hissed, with another threatening movement.

“He’s not going to do that,” Nathan said, shaking his head.  “He’s not going to give you _anything_.”

“Yes he is,” Mara said, smiling sweetly.  “Aren’t you, Crocker?”

“What makes you think I can get it?” Crocker asked, expressionless.  “It’s locked away, I don’t have access, I’m not a cop.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you,” Mara replied.  “Don’t forget, I know everything _she_ knows about you.  You can get it.  And you _will_ get it.  And you will hand it over to me.”

Crocker looked between Audrey, still held firm in Jordan’s grip, and Wuornos, stiff and furious and with a gun leveled at his chest, and looked back at her, eyes dark and crackling with intensity.  She met his gaze, smugly satisfied; she _knew him_ , she knew what his answer had to be.

He was, fundamentally, just as selfish as Wuornos.  Just as desperate, just as needy, just as willing to fuck everyone else over to protect his people.

So long as she had his people, she held his leash.

“If you hurt them, the next Trouble I let out will be one that kills you,” he said, the words flat.

“One hour,” she replied.  “Starting _now_.  You might want to hurry.”

He left without another word; he was _bleeding_ power, she could feel it, the pressure building up faster, much faster, than the day before.  She made a note of that, because she wanted to be well out of range when he _did_ go off, and given the start of a protest from Audrey- silenced when Jordan gave her a sharp shake- and the bleak glare Wuornos was directing in Crocker’s wake, it wouldn’t be long after he got back.  Not with the lectures and recriminations that were bound to follow.  Hypocritical though they would inevitably be.

Really, they had to be _blind_ , not to see the connection, but that wasn’t her problem.  Not so long as she had enough leeway to get clear.

“And we just... _wait_ , now?” Jordan asked, sounding dubious, her eyes still on the door, as well.

“That is exactly what we do,” Mara agreed.  She reached for Wuornos’s cuffs, and motioned for Jordan to do the same with Audrey’s.  “Cuff her and stash her in a booth or something, no point in having to hold her up this whole time.”  She grabbed Wuornos’s wrist, closed one cuff around it, and she made a point of letting her touch linger, enjoying the panicky rush of _conflict_ he displayed, how he clearly wanted to pull away and just as clearly couldn’t ignore the momentary rush of sensation.

“I’m not going to be able to cuff her without touching her,” Jordan said, and Mara shrugged, glanced up for just a moment.

“So?”

Jordan blinked, and reached for Audrey’s cuffs, and that, that had apparently been something she _shouldn’t_ have said out loud before she’d finished cuffing Wuornos, _minor_ miscalculation.  He wrenched around, got a hand on the gun and twisted it out of her grip, got a hand on her wrist and twisted, _dragged_ \- she nailed him, _hard_ , with an elbow, drove the heel of her hand into his chin, but even though he could _feel_ it, even though she could see it disorient him, he pushed through, got an arm wrapped around her throat and _squeezed_.

Jordan gave an indignant cry, and Mara could see the fury rising in her, could see the fire under her skin bright and dangerous.

“Let’er _go_ ,” Wuornos demanded, glaring at Jordan, and okay, he got at least a B plus for effort this time, his arm pressed flat over her windpipe, very close to cutting off her air, the gun digging into her side.  “ _Now_.”

Jordan met Mara’s eyes, and Mara nodded, not really _worried_ , yet, but fairly sure Wuornos wasn’t bluffing.  It didn’t matter, Mara had contingency plans, Mara _always_ had contingency plans.  The situation wasn’t out of hand, not yet.

Jordan let go of Audrey, and Audrey scrambled to the side, went after her gun on the ground, and Jordan still had her cuffs in one hand.

“Bring those here,” Wuornos demanded, and Mara had to fight not to grin, just nodded again, letting Jordan know it was _okay_ , letting her know to _listen_.  Jordan looked uncertain, trembling with tension, anger boiling below her skin, but she stepped forward, closed the distance.  When she was close, almost close enough to touch, Mara let herself smile, and Jordan’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

Wuornos holstered his gun, reached for the cuffs, and Mara tilted her head, a silent demand, and Jordan’s eyes went wide, but she held, let Wuornos grab the metal-

-and grabbed his wrist.

Wuornos _crumpled_ , a breathless, startled cry tearing from him as he dropped, and _ugh_ , he was _heavy_ , obnoxious- Mara twisted clear, came up with his gun, and Jordan _held_ \- was confused, clearly, was _shocked_ , but she held, hand clamped tight around Wuornos’s wrist as he barely kept on his knees, shaking and heaving for breath, eyes wide enough to show the whites all around- while Mara stepped around, behind Wuornos, fixing Audrey with a look as she aimed.

“I’d put that back down,” she said, motioning to Audrey’s gun, and Audrey dropped the gun once more, kicked it away with her eyes fixed on Wuornos, _fear_ written plain on her face.  “Good.  Jordan, enough.”

Jordan let go, and Mara leaned down, finished cuffing Wuornos _properly_ , and motioned at Audrey.

“ _Now_ go cuff her.”

Jordan retrieved Audrey’s cuffs, crossed back to the other woman, and Audrey flinched away from her approach, put her hands behind her back without being prompted, clearly trying to avoid being grabbed.  Jordan gave Mara a questioning look, and Mara shrugged; she didn’t care one way or the other.  Jordan hesitated, but cuffed Audrey carefully, looking a little pale.

“What was that?” Jordan asked, when Audrey’s hands were secured.  “I can’t- how did I do that?”

“I told you,” Mara said, amused, “I made you _better_.”

“That’s _better_?” Audrey asked, horrified, still staring at her lover; Wuornos was still gasping, shaking and wild-eyed.

“Of course it is,” Mara replied, shrugging.  “Fair’s fair.  He hurt her...  Now she can hurt him.”

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me?” Jordan asked, sounding _uncertain_ , still.

“Because gifts are more fun as a surprise,” Mara replied, flashing a sharp-edged smile.  “Surprise.”  Audrey made a choked, indignant sound, but Jordan just _blinked_ , tilted her head, clearly _considering_.  “Also, if you knew, there was always the chance he’d see the change, and be cautious.  As it was...  He underestimated you.  Again.”

“...Yes, he did,” Jordan agreed, and _now_ , she smiled, a thin, brittle thing, but a smile nonetheless.  “Guess he won’t do that again.”

“He can only hope,” Mara replied.  “Because with a little practice...  I mean it, sweet, you will be _magnificent_.”

“This... really what you want to be, Jordan?” Wuornos asked, his voice a low rasp of sound.  “Her pet, doing _tricks_ , hurting people for a little bit of praise?”

“ _Hey_ ,” Mara snarled, reaching down to smack the back of his head, and he jolted, clearly not having expected it.  “ _You_ don’t get to talk to her like that.”

Jordan looked _surprised_ , and her expression went _soft_ , for just a moment, before she smiled, hard and bitter, and moved to crouch down and look Wuornos in the eyes.

“Coming from Audrey Parker’s lapdog, that doesn’t carry a whole lot of weight, Nathan,” she said, folding her hands over her knees.  “And, in case you were wondering?  I’m getting a lot more than a little bit of praise.  ...How’s Audrey not being _immune_ anymore working out for you?”

Wuornos didn’t answer, and Jordan smirked and stood back up, flicking a quick glance at Mara.  Mara held out a hand, beckoning, and Jordan moved closer, her eyes falling closed when Mara took her hand, traced her fingertips over the back of it.

“I told you I’d give you the chance to get back some of your own,” Mara murmured, the words carefully quiet, pitched to carry to Jordan alone.  “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“What do you mean, I could be magnificent?” Jordan asked in response, head tilted and eyes opening, narrowed in speculation.  Mara _grinned_ , tugged her close and kissed her lightly, because she could, because she wanted to, because she didn’t have to justify it to anyone.

“I am going to make you a _goddess_ ,” Mara said, because she _could_.  Because she _wanted to_.

Because the world had burned Mara, a time or two, and Mara was going to burn it _back_.

“...I think I can live with that,” Jordan said, smiling, and she was dazzlingly lovely when she really smiled.  The Goddess of Vengeance, Mara thought, that would suit her _very_ well indeed.  Adrestia reborn.

Yes, that would suit her just fine.

***

It was _strange_.

Mara wasn’t wrong, it felt good, but it was still... _strange_.  To stand in a room with the only two people who’d been able to get past her Trouble, _before_ , and know that they were both _vulnerable_ , now.

Nathan couldn’t touch her.

He’d been able to, and now he couldn’t.  Because Mara had _decided_ that he shouldn’t.  Had changed her, had made her strong enough to overcome his Trouble.   _Fair’s fair_ , she’d said, just like that.  Like it was nothing.   _I made you better_.

_I’m going to make you a goddess_.

There was something terribly alluring about that thought.

Sword and shield, Mara had said.  Protection against the world.  Equal footing.   _I made you better_.

_I’m going to make you a goddess_.

Mara had given her a weapon that could tear down even someone supposedly invulnerable.  Could leave him weak and trembling at her feet.

Jordan had resented her Trouble, had loathed it, had cringed back from the power of it.

_You can’t tell me that it wasn’t exactly what you wanted- the power to punish him, to hurt him the way he’d hurt you._

Mara had guided Audrey over to one of the worn, battered booths, had checked her seams and her belt, her sleeves and her pockets when she’d done so, and left her sitting there, had moved Nathan to a different booth, had taken a seat at the bar where she could watch the both of them.  She was relaxed, casual, twirling a bent bit of metal between her fingers with a coy, amused smile.

Not a trace of worry, not a trace of doubt.   _Confident_ , certain, waiting.

Jordan sat down beside her, and Mara smirked at her, blue eyes blazing with the fire Jordan could still _see_.  She wondered if that was ever going to fade, or if it was just part of her now.

“What’s on your mind, little Fury?” Mara asked, and Jordan reached out, brushed a fingertip along the back of Mara’s hand.

“When- when you weren’t _you_ , when you were... everyone else you’ve been.  Those people, they could help people control their Troubles.”  Jordan paused, and Mara’s expression went dark, went _bleak_ as she glared at Audrey.  “Is- can _anyone_ control their Trouble?  Can you teach me to control this?”

“There’s no such thing as a Trouble that can’t be controlled,” Mara said, the words curling with disdain.  “Or at least, there _wasn’t_.  Anyone can control their own Trouble.”

“Will you teach me?”

Mara looked at her, eyes glinting, and took her hand.

“Breathe in,” she instructed, and Jordan blinked, because she hadn’t meant _right that minute_ , but she did as she was told.  “Hold the air in your lungs, feel it there.”  Jordan did, focused on the feeling, and Mara smirked.  “Feel it feeding the fire?”

“Yes,” Jordan said, because she did, she could feel the fire in her blood, could feel how it drew on the air.

“Follow the fire.  Feel it move through you, tell me where it sits.”

“Everywhere,” Jordan said, confused, and Mara tightened her grip on Jordan’s hand.

“ _Pay attention_.  Tell me where it sits.”

“...In my veins.  In my skin.”

“That’s your power.  You want to control it, you need to figure out how to direct it.  Pull it _out_ of your skin, into your veins, and you can be touched.  Direct it to particular sections of skin, you can make certain areas safe and protect others.  Pull extra, concentrate it in your skin, you can vary the intensity, the sensation- pull enough, and you won’t just cripple someone with a touch, you’ll kill them.”

“...Really?” Jordan asked, eyes going wide, and Mara laughed.

“I told you.  You’ll be magnificent with a little bit of practice.  If you’re very, very dedicated, you might even be able to push it beyond your skin.  Direct it over distance, or create an aura no one can cross.  This gift, it’s _yours_.  It’s part of you.  Treat it like part of you, learn it instead of fighting it, and who knows what you can do with it.”  Mara traced her fingers over Jordan’s palm, and Jordan could feel heat flare, following the movements.

“What were they for?” Jordan asked, and Mara blinked, looked startled, then cautiously pleased.

“In the beginning?  Proof of concept.  I needed to know it could be done.  I needed to know I could do it.  From there?  They’re tools.  Every gift your people call Troubles serves a useful purpose, when it’s used _correctly_.”

“How is _Dwight’s_ Trouble useful?” Jordan asked, because she already knew what Mara would say about her own.   _Sword and shield_.  Protection.  Nathan’s, too, could be seen that way, had certainly kept him running through situations that would have stopped anyone else.

“Dwight can _call fire_ ,” Mara said, as though it should be obvious.  “Do you understand what that can _do_ , on a battlefield?  How much a boon that is?  He’s used it that way, himself- used it to pull gunfire away from someone vulnerable, to direct the path of a bullet to take down the one who fired it.  Even fighting it, even with it sitting in its most basic state, he can protect a huge area, can command the field by default.  If he bothered to _learn_ it, he could call enemy bullets, and let his friends fire freely.  He could redirect their paths, shoot around corners, weave around obstacles- it’s the ultimate battlefield gift.  Admittedly, I _designed_ it for musket balls and arrows, not machine guns and rockets, but they were never meant to _sit_ for centuries untended.”

“What did you plan to fight?” Jordan asked, frowning, because her ability, and _that_ ability, those weren’t just tools.  They were _weapons_.  And then there was the Trouble that had raised her- that had raised others, as well- the disquiet dead.  Set on _vengeance_.

Someone could build an army, with that gift.

“Am planning,” Mara corrected, almost absently.  “Someone who wronged me.  Someone who took something very precious from me.”

“What did they take?”

“My father.  Among other things.”  Mara’s expression was distant, cold, and Jordan reached out, touched her cheek, drew her gaze back.  Mara blinked, and smiled, and it was _dangerous_ , was full of things Jordan couldn’t quite interpret.  “I have a war to wage, little Fury.  I can make you a goddess, but I will need something from you.”

“...We had a deal,” Jordan said, picking the words out carefully.  “You keep me alive, I help you.  You hold up your end, I’ll hold up mine.”

“You really will be _magnificent_ ,” Mara said, with a sly, satisfied smile.  “And I am going to show you _universes_.  Just as soon as we can get out of here.”

“You really think Crocker is going to come back, with what you need, _alone_?” Jordan asked, frowning, _fretting_.  Pinning something _that important_ on _Duke_ seemed like a very, very bad idea.

“He’ll be here.  And then we are leaving.  Quickly.”

“Could- can he control what’s happening?  You said anyone could control a Trouble-”

“Their _own_ Trouble,” Mara corrected.  “Anyone can control _their own_ Trouble.  Crocker isn’t dealing with _his_ Trouble, he’s not even dealing with _a_ Trouble.  He’s dealing with _hundreds_.  Feel the fire in your blood, Jordan, feel how strong it is, feel how it moves.  Now imagine that, magnified by _hundreds_ \- and imagine that every bit of it is _fighting you_.  Is screaming to get out, because it _doesn’t belong_.  That man is a bomb waiting to go off.  We don’t want to be here when he does.  We’ll be able to see the show from where we’re going, anyway.”

“...Could you stop it?” Jordan asked, because Mara might look amused, but there was a note of wariness there, too.

“Maybe.  With the right tools, and enough time.  Neither of which I’m willing to spend on it.”

“So we leave?”

“We leave.”

“...Okay.”  It wasn’t her problem.   _Haven_ wasn’t her problem, not anymore.   _Universes_ , Mara had said.

Jordan could work with that.

***

Crocker made it back with four minutes to spare out of his hour.  Mara gave Jordan a pointed look, because really, there was no need to _doubt_ her.  She knew what she was doing.

“Knew I could count on you,” she said, smiling sharp and cruel.  “Give me my aether.”

“I do that, they walk out of here?” Crocker demanded, flicking a glance in the direction of the tables where the two cops were cuffed.

“You give me the aether, I give you the keys to their cuffs, and I don’t really give a shit what you do with them,” Mara replied, amused.  “You can keep them here, for all I care.”

“Don’t do this, Duke,” Audrey said, tone urgent, and Mara lifted the gun from the bar beside her, pointed it at Wuornos.

“No comments from the peanut gallery,” she instructed, and Audrey went silent, pale and unhappy, eyes on the weapon.  Crocker focused on it, as well, grim and glowering, and reached into his pocket, drew out a little vial of black spheres.  They _hummed_ , trembling against the glass, trying to reach her, and Mara breathed a sigh of relief; _finally_ , damnit.  Mara held up two pairs of keys, and set them down on the bar, standing up and moving towards Crocker, keeping her gun trained on Wuornos as she moved- he made the most sense, he was the one most likely to try something stupid, and if he did, she could shoot him, and the other two weren’t going to risk getting him shot.  Jordan fell in beside her, pressed against her side, and they stopped just in front of Crocker.

Mara held out her hand, and she could see him hesitate, could see him _waver_.

Jordan lashed out, pressed her palm against his cheek, and he jerked back, dropped the aether.  Mara caught it, tucked it into her pocket, and smiled.

“They’re all yours,” she said, as he cursed and seethed and trembled.  “Good luck with that.”

Crocker backed away, eyes blazing, and Mara put her hand at the small of Jordan’s back and guided her out the door.

“Now what?” Jordan asked, as they headed to the car, looking anxiously back over her shoulder.

“Now?  Now, we go home.”

They had a war to wage, after all.  And Mara had promised Jordan _universes_.

It was long past time to start.


End file.
